Life No 2
by Mamararinana
Summary: When Maya died, she expected to either go to heaven or just blank out for eternity. Instead, she finds herself in the world of Naruto, living the life a certain insomniac sand nin from scratch. 'I expected a bad day, but this is just ridiculous...'
1. Gunned Down and Born Again

Hello, and welcome to my new story, 'Life No. 2' (sorry about the crappy title). I know I should be working on my other fic, but I'm running low on inspiration, and I've had this idea swimming around in my head ever since I finally found the episode where Gaara's past was explained in full.

I don't own 'Naruto' or any of its characters.

'

The day's only just started, and already I know it's going to be bad.

How do I know that? Simple. I'm running on two hours' worth of sleep, I've slept past my alarm, I'm an hour late for school, and I have a test in second period. Does that just about explain it for you?

My stomach gave a loud growl.

…Oh, and I just realized I haven't eaten breakfast, packed a lunch, or taken lunch money either. So I'm going to spend the day exhausted _and_ starving.

…not to mention brain-dead. I just realized I packed my Naruto comics instead of my textbooks. Crap.

I sighed, slowing my mad dash to school and taking out a random Naruto comic instead. Might as well make the best of it and use it as a distraction – anything to keep my mind off the hell that would be my day.

I flipped the comic open to a random page. It was the one where Gaara's past including the whole Yashamaru ordeal was explained. Not exactly the sort of thing one tends to read over and over again as such, but hey – whatever.

Comic book in hand, I began to jog again, my nose buried in the pages. I didn't particularly need to look where I was going – I had a sixth sense for when I was going to run into someone or trip over something or throw myself headfirst into oncoming traffic, courtesy of fourteen years in the big city.

All things considered, it wasn't actually that weird that I didn't notice the surprised shouts and screams that suddenly surrounded me. Or even the loud 'BANG' that sounded suspiciously like a gunshot. Too much TV, I guess. Eventually you get to the point where nothing in the world really surprises you anymore, 'cuz it all just feels like one big plot point in a corny soap opera.

It was only when I realized I was no longer wading through thick crowds that I realized something was wrong and decided to look up.

Of the last four seconds of my life, two were spent wondering what I was seeing.

The third was spent in horrified realization that it was the barrel of a gun I was staring down.

The last was spent with my life flashing before my eyes.

BANG!

I just _knew_ this would be a bad day…

'

Dammit, where the hell am I? Wherever it is, it's not exactly comfortable. In fact, it's small and cramped, and the walls are all squishy and disgusting. I can't breathe very well either… in fact, I don't think I can breathe at all. How the hell am I surviving?

Alright, just relax, now. Consider your options rationally. First of all, what's the last thing you remember?

…the barrel of a gun. Guess that means I'm dead. Well, this doesn't look like heaven. Unless of course it's God's womb like you read about in the bible sometimes, but I really doubt that. Maybe I'm being resurrected or something like in that movie – you know, the one where the babies don't forget their past lives until they're three or four years old, and this creepy old lady tries to figure out if they know the secrets of the universe or not. Maybe it'll be like that!

Suddenly, the walls around me got really tight for some reason.

…what's that noise?

…a scream? Yeah, I think that's it! It's a woman's scream, and it's loud, and it's coming from right below me. Or possibly above me… I think I might be upside-down right now… whatever. Fact of the matter is, there's someone screaming, and it's a woman, and I think it might be my new mommy.

…oh, crap. I guess that means it's time to come out.

Right on cue, the walls gave another spasm. I felt myself beginning to be pushed forward.

I won't go into detail about the hours that followed. I'll say this, though – it may have been awkward and even slightly painful for me, but I can tell you, my new mom had it a hell of a lot worse.

Finally, the umbilical cord was clipped (which hurt like hell, for the record), and I felt them pick me up and put me into some sort of cot. That's weird, I was sort of expecting them to give me to my new mom…

Then, I began to hear this freaky chanting. My mom was still moaning in pain, and I wanted to look around and check if she was alright, but my eyes wouldn't open for some weird reason, so I couldn't do anything but listen for the meantime.

Suddenly, there was a loud whooshing noise, and I felt myself be surrounded by wind… now let me rephrase that with stronger words.

'Fucking hell, that _hurt_! No frickin' way is that an ordinary wind! Hell, I've got my own little mini-whirlwind here, sand included! OW! Why the hell is it drilling into my stomach, for Christ's sake?! Dammit, I could use a little help over here, you chanting freaks!'

No help came. The chanting freaks just kept on chanting and my mother just kept on screaming… was it my imagination, or was it getting louder?

All of a sudden, there was a deep, rumbling, distinctly evil laugh, echoing all around the room. Finally, the woman I had already come to call 'mother', at least in my head, fell silent. The chanting continued, growing quieter and quieter, until finally it too was silent. All that was left was a hissing, whispering sound, like the sound effects that go with shifting sands sometimes in movies, and the ragged breaths of my mother, growing shallower and shallower.

Again, I was picked up – this time placed in my mother's arms. She felt damp, and she smelled like blood. In fact, everything smelled like blood right now. Poor mother. I was really getting concerned.

Finally, I managed to open my eyes, staring up at the woman. Strangely enough, the eyes I was staring into, apart from being distinctly familiar, were distinctly anime shaped.

I opened my mouth and tried to talk, but all I could manage was a little coo, so instead, I settled for giving her a concerned look.

A man approached from my right. When he spoke, it was in Japanese. I could understand, though – I'd taught myself the language, purely for the reason that all the best web comics tended to be written in Japanese. I didn't have any real experience as of yet, though.

"What are you going to call him?"

…him? Crap, did that mean I was a boy?

Her eyes fluttered shut for a second. I heard the weird sandy noise again and looked to my right, only to be met with the sight of a tendril of sand rising from the floor.

What the…?

"…Gaara," she replied weakly. "His name will be Gaara."

…No frickin' way.

'

_Good? Bad? Worth continuing at all? This was written purely out of boredom, thus far (I got out of school four weeks early, so I have the rest of it, plus Christmas holidays, before I go back). Any suggestions, comments or constructive criticism you might have to offer are welcome._

_Also, you should know early on that if any romance begins in this fic, it will probably be Yaoi, considering the fact that the main character is a fangirl in a boy's body. In fact, I'd really appreciate your opinion on whether or not there should be any romance at all, and if so, who it should be between._

…_by the way, I don't actually have a clue how the ritual is supposed to go, so I just based it on some corny movie interpretation of a sealing ritual. I'm very sorry if it's inaccurate._


	2. A Big Ass Needle and a Big Ass Bastard

Childbirth and creepy ritual all over and done with, I was carefully bundled up and carried out of the room. Not that I was complaining, this place stank really badly, and I was still covered in slime and blood and all that gunk too. All in all, I can honestly say that I was glad to see they had a bath prepared for me in the next room.

…was that a needle that ninja-ish doctor guy was holding?

I did my best to glare at the offending object. Of course, it was an entirely superficial gesture, considering I _still_ couldn't figure out how to manipulate the sand properly. Maybe my mother would protect me?

I continued glaring as the man approached me, making his intentions all too obvious. He perfectly matched my definition of evil, with his white lab coat, glasses glinting menacingly as he towered over a defenseless infant, giving the needle a threatening squirt to get the air-bubbles out…

Why the hell wasn't the sand helping, already?! And hell,_ why_ does an infant need to get an injection in the first place?! I mean, it's not as if I'd need a flu shot before I could even walk!

"This will prevent him from falling asleep until he's old enough to understand and take preventative steps on his own," the doctor-guy explained to the man who'd brought me in. He nodded in silent agreement.

Oh, so _that_'s it… I guess it makes sense, but still…

"Now, stay still, Gaara-sama."

You have no idea how weird it is to be called that. Really. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

"There, all done."

…well, whaddya know, I distracted myself.

Evil anti-sleep shot over and done with, I was handed over to someone who looked like a nursemaid and then dumped in the bath. Well, not exactly _dumped_, per se, more like 'placed with meticulous care'. I guess they must've been afraid of me already. But then again, Gaara's father _was_ the kazekage, right? That and the fact that I was the shiny new weapon of Sunagakure, it'd probably be the death sentence for anyone who so much as breathed on me too hard.

I sat patiently as the woman carefully washed away all the muck. Yes, I _do_ have patience, thank you very much, though you wouldn't think it from just my thought patterns. Truth was, I was about as close to Gaara as any person with a normal life could get. And I don't mean that in a cool or dramatic way, either. I was always the quiet, broody one who sat at the back of the room, shrouded in darkness with creepy bags under their eyes (yes, I'm an insomniac), whose whole outlook on life, especially social situations, was basically, 'glare until they back off'.

I am not a 'people' person.

I remained quiet as I was finally lifted from the tub and then gently dried off. I think I was unnerving the nurse, just sitting there, glaring at her without blinking, not complaining at all. I wonder if the original Gaara was like this…

Come to think of it, that begs a very good question. Should I or should I not attempt to follow the example set by the original Gaara? On one hand, the entire plotline would be changed entirely if I let everyone know I wasn't actually him. Lee wouldn't be beaten in the Chuunin exams, for one. Plus, I guess Naruto wouldn't gain his insight into how he would've turned out if things had been different… what other important parts did Gaara play? Well, I guess if he wasn't there, Naruto wouldn't have had his first experience summoning Gamakichi, and, more importantly, Gamabunta, for a fight. That could be hazardous. Plus, the attack on Konoha was an important plot point. If that didn't happen, there were plenty of other things that mightn't happen.

On the other hand, I suppose it might be possible to make up for all losses with my own presence, but really, it seemed a lot safer just to let things play out as they had in the original series. But then _I_ would have to play the part. Attacking Konoha under the Kazekage's orders, fighting Kimimaro later in the series, hell, even Gaara's whole tragic childhood. Seemed like a bit too much effort, all in all… but if I didn't do it, it might change how things happened, which was a big risk.

I continued to glare at the woman as she finished dressing me. Her eye was beginning to develop a nervous tic. I guess it must've been kind of scary, dressing an infant who just keeps glaring at you. I'm sure it didn't help that I was starting to get used to how the sand corresponded with my thoughts. It was almost like having an extra limb that wasn't attached to my body, except there was no physical sensation in it, and I could move it however I wanted without the restrictions of bone and muscle flexibility. The movements were still kind of jerky, and it seemed to move differently when I was looking at it directly, but I'd get the hang of it eventually.

Once again I was carefully picked up and taken to another room. This one was more comfortably furnished for your average ninja infant, the shelves decked with teddy bears, kunai and shuriken, children's books and ninja scrolls alike, the cheerful sky-blue walls covered with charts of the human body and its vital points, a chart of all the basic hand-seals on the ceiling above the crib in the corner. It was actually quite disturbing how they could somehow work ninja weapons and training regimes into a child's environment, but it would make things a lot easier – I had a long childhood ahead of me, and I didn't intend to spend it playing with teddy-bears.

…dammit, I just realized this meant I'd have to go through puberty all over again. Crap.

I was placed carefully down in the crib. Finally, the man left, while another nursemaid (I guess) came forward with what looked like a bottle of milk. Crap, I hope that wasn't for me… wow, I just realized I don't have teeth. Man, that felt weird! Come to think of it, this whole body in general felt weird. My skin was really soft and sensitive, and I was so tiny!

I resisted the urge to pat myself down just to check. At this moment, it was more important to look menacing for that woman coming towards me with a bottle of milk. I _hate _milk.

She leaned down over the crib with the bottle, shoving it towards my face. The movement probably seemed gentle to her, but to me, it was annoying and scary. Her hand was about as big as my whole head, and the bottle wasn't exactly inviting.

…then again, I probably wouldn't be getting anything but milk for months at least. I guess I'd just have to get used to it.

The woman shoved the bottle at my face again, trying to get it into my mouth.

That said, I certainly didn't intend to let myself be bottle-fed.

I dodged her attempt at shoving the bottle in my mouth, shoving her back with the sand that was still swirling around the crib, raising a twitchy tendril to grab the bottle from her and bring it back to me. Reaching out with my hand, I released the sand and grabbed the bottle, bringing it to my mouth. I grimaced at the taste, hardly any better than normal milk, but I kept drinking anyway.

The woman looked scared now. She was backing away slowly towards the door. I don't know what on earth she was expecting, trying to shove a bottle down my throat like that, but this didn't seem to be it.

Finally, she broke into a run. I raised a tendril of sand to trip her on her way out, just for the hell of it. She screamed, stumbling to her feet and running from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Finally, peace and quiet.

I laid back in my crib, supporting the bottle with both hands so that I could keep drinking while I stared at the chart of hand-seals and basic chakra use stuck to the ceiling above the crib. I wasn't exactly an avid student, mostly because I was severely lacking when it came to my attention span, but when I was interested, things that should've been insanely difficult became simple. Ninjutsu was something I would be keen to learn any day, and so I would probably spend the rest of my life studying it without qualms.

I'd barely finished the introduction to hand-seals and how they worked written at the top of the chart when the door opened again. I looked over and saw a man there, the woman I'd scared off a while ago cowering behind him. He looked vaguely familiar, come to think of it… in fact, he looked very similar to Kankuro the one scene in the entire series when we saw him without the cat suit and the face paint. Couldn't be him, though, he wasn't _that_ much older than Gaara. Maybe it was his dad?

I glared as the man approached the crib. Yeah, I recognized him now, from that one scene where Gaara passed him in the street after murdering some drunk who pissed him off. This was the bastard who sent Gaara's own uncle to assassinate him.

"So, this is my son?" he asked the woman. She nodded in response. "And you say he's already using the sand, despite the fact that Shukaku shouldn't have been active for weeks after the ritual?"

So that was why I hadn't heard from Shukaku yet. I was wondering about that. But what was the point of the anti-sleep drug if Shukaku wasn't going to be active right away, I wonder?

"Y-yessir," the woman whimpered. I turned to her with the most evil look I could muster without revealing my current lack of teeth, raising a tendril of sand to brush against her ankle. She froze, her face losing at least two shades of color in under a minute with a loud, high-pitched squeak.

"Is something wrong?" the man demanded.

"M-my leg…!"

Finally he looked down, but I'd lost control and let the tendril collapse long ago. It was a lot harder than I'd thought at first to keep the sand under control, considering it wasn't actually a solid substance but a mass of grains. I found it was easier if I only gave it a basic shape and let it form the rest of it by itself. But hell, I'd be damned if I figured out how to compress it and make the whole absolute defense thing, let alone making sand clones. Maybe I should concentrate on this before continuing with hand-seals…

"You're being ridiculous, woman, there's nothing there," the man said in a sharp tone. "You know what, you're fired. I'll find someone else to take care of him."

I hope he isn't referring to Yashamaru – that was one person I really wanted to get my hands on, and if he came into the picture too soon, I probably wouldn't be able to restrain myself until the proper time came. Would it make a difference to the plotline if I murdered him too early?

The man – my father – turned to look down at me condescendingly as the woman left the room. Bastard.

"And they said the ritual was successful. You're worthless."

Oh, I _know_ you didn't just call me worthless.

"I can't believe that stupid woman would actually die just to give you power. It's obviously not going to do you any good."

That's it.

'

…well, to make a long story short, it took the guards five whole minutes to hear my father screaming and run into the room to save him. Even then, I managed to hold them off for a whole two more minutes before my concentration gave in and I lost control of the sand. I'm starting to wonder why exactly there's so much sand here anyway. I mean, I know it's a desert country and all, but we're _inside_ at the moment…

'

_I'm sorry this update took so long, I really didn't mean to, but I kept on hitting blocks along the way where I just couldn't figure out what to write._

_Once again, I'd also like to know if anyone wants pairings, and if so which ones. Thus far, I've had one person vote for the main character to be paired with either Kakashi or Naruto. I think a KakashixGaara pairing would be interesting, so that's what I'll do if no-one has any objections or suggestions, but if you do have any, please tell me._

_Also, I'm still not sure whether or not she's going to tell people she isn't actually Gaara. On one hand, telling everyone means I can change the plot entirely and replace it with her version where she meets Naruto and Sasuke and Haku and so on and they grow up happily together, but I think that idea might be just a bit overused all in all. On the other hand, following the original plotline with her playing the part of Gaara and no-one knowing about it makes for some very interesting plot points, and it means I can go through the less well-known parts of Gaara's childhood, like his education and his relationship with Kankuro and Temari. I think I'd prefer not to have anyone know, but I'm really not sure, so I'd appreciate your opinion on this._

_By the way, just so you know, I'm going on holiday with my family for a week starting this Wednesday, so I won't be able to update until then at the earliest I'm afraid. Sorry for the inconvenience._


	3. Conclusions and a Time Skip

I laid back in my crib, staring at a poster of human anatomy and vital points on the wall next to me while I considered my current situation. I found I absorbed information best when I wasn't actually making a conscious effort, a skill I'd been forced to develop to avoid missing my favorite TV shows due to homework.

However, at this point in time I found myself considering far more interesting subjects than the question of when the filler episodes for Naruto would end. No, I was deep in thought, trying my best to answer the two questions that I always asked myself when in doubt.

Why was I here, and what would I do now that I was here?

Naturally, my mind tended to wander towards the second question, it being a choice rather than a riddle, but I knew from experience that it was better to figure out the first question first. It usually helped the decision considerably.

Consider the possibilities, I told myself. What could possibly cause a recently deceased girl to wake up in the body of an anime character?

Alright, default possibilities – a prank by friends, a government conspiracy, or a dream. This seemed a bit elaborate to be a prank, honestly, and I don't see how the government would benefit from this, unless they wanted me to come back to their world as a super-weapon or something, which I doubted. As for the third possibility, a pinch discredited that immediately.

All default possibilities ruled out, I backtracked to the events prior to the incident, trying to rule out something unusual (aside from the glaringly obvious incident involving looking up to see the barrel of a gun). That morning had been bad, and I'd known the day would be far worse, but that alone couldn't be enough to do this. Lots of people died when they were having a bad day, and I'm pretty sure this didn't happen for the majority of them. Of course, it was possible that this was a standard resurrection or afterlife or something, but once again, I was doubtful. What else was there out of the ordinary? I was hungry from skipping breakfast, but that didn't seem relevant. The fact that I was running on a grand total of two hours' sleep might have had some relevance to Gaara's own sleeping habits, but once again, if that were a plausible reason, than this wouldn't be the first time this had happened. So what else had been making my day bad? Oh, yeah, forgetting my textbooks and bringing my Naruto comics instead, but that didn't seem…

Wait a sec. Backtrack. What page had I been on right before I looked up to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun? Oh, yeah. That picture of baby Gaara, sitting in the sandstone crib, surrounded by candles and covered in blood with the sand rising menacingly around him.

That might explain it. I'd died looking at a picture of the birth of someone who apparently existed in another dimension. Now that _had_ to be the first time something like this had happened, what other idiot would die reading a Naruto comic? Let alone the most boring chapter in the whole series when it came to re-reading…

Well, I've learned my lesson about reading and walking at the same time…

Alright, riddle solved. I think. Now, onto the choice. What to do now? Try to get home or stay here? And if I chose to stay, should I play the role that had been set for me, or should I deviate from the plot, meet up with Naruto and Haku and Sasuke and live happily ever after?

Well, I don't think trying to get home was an option. Apart from the fact that it would be nigh impossible if my conclusion about how I'd gotten here was correct, it didn't seem that appealing either, considering the high possibility that I might have to start life all over again from scratch. Not to mention there was no one who really cared about me. I mean, it's not like my parents were _abusive_ or anything, they just… didn't love me, I guess. I was an illegitimate child, so to mom, I was a reminder of the woman my dad had loved before her, and to dad, I was a reminder of the only mistake he'd ever made. My older sister and younger brother had caught on too at some stage, and they'd grown up being considered my betters. So basically, everyone who should have cared called me worthless. They said it in a joking tone, like it didn't matter, but I knew they meant it. Not that I was sensitive about it or anything, it just got annoying at times, and it was hardly an incentive to go home when presented with an opportunity like this.

So, I was staying. Now I just needed to figure out whether or not I should deviate from the original plotline. Honestly, it might be a better idea just to go with the original. Changing things might screw something up, and there was no way to tell whether or not my presence would magically put everything right like it always did in fanfiction. No, it would be safer to stay here and let things play out as they had before, play along with the sound's plan, stage the fight with Naruto, train so that I could defend myself against Kimimaro and Akatsuki where the original Gaara had been unable to… yes, that sounded like a good plan.

'…_crap, that was a vital point? I think I hit one of the guards there when they were trying to get dad out.'_

In the meantime, I was going to have a lot of fun looking at these posters. Who knew the human anatomy could be so interesting? If they taught this stuff in biology, I might actually have listened…

'

'Three Years Later'

'

You know, three years is a long time. Much longer than it should be. Honestly, I felt like I should be a lot older. Hell, it felt like I should be facing off against Naruto in the Chuunin exams any day now. As it was, I still wasn't even big enough to throw a kunai and hit the mark (though it was fun to try). I'd learned to walk properly around age two, and I'd managed to raise my voice and get more than a gurgle when I was only five months old. Apart from that, I'd sat in my room reading scrolls and attempting basic techniques.

But, of course, I'd been locked in this room for three years with nothing but sixteen scrolls of the bare basics of Ninjutsu. Of course, they probably expected me to be reading these things when I was old enough to throw a kunai properly, but that didn't change the fact that I couldn't even use hand-seals properly. I was determined to use these five years before I could begin on proper Taijutsu to study Genjutsu and Ninjutsu as much as I could, but it had proved difficult when I only had access to the basics of Henge, Bunshin, Kawarimi, Genjutsu, and theoretical Taijutsu, especially in the years before my hands were big enough to form the seals properly.

"_Quit complaining, brat. It's giving me a headache."_

"_You don't **have** a head, you worthless pet sand-rock of a demon."_

Shukaku wasn't actually that bad, when it came down to it. I didn't actually need his permission to use his power in battle, which was good, because I have a feeling he wouldn't give it, regardless of the situation. He could still control his power from within my mind, but he usually avoided it unless it was to protect me. Let's face it, he only existed on the plane of my own mind, which, coincidentally, I could control. If I wanted, I could turn him into a regular old raccoon and leave him to fend for himself against the monsters that couldn't show up in my nightmares anymore. The problem was, if I ever fell asleep, he'd turn the tables and I'd be the one stuck in the back of my own head while he went on a killing spree.

Apart from that, there was another benefit the original Gaara probably didn't have. Shukaku was surprisingly knowledgeable when it came to the use of his specific power in conjunction to Ninjutsu, and he was more than willing to share with me his infinite wisdom when such a time came that I could train properly. Turns out he was actually one of the most powerful priests in Suna, way before the first Kazekage was even born, but then he got too powerful and became an incarnation of sand. It was actually explained, albeit briefly, in the anime, though I'd never paid that part any attention before, and I'm pretty sure no one else did either.

"_Are you absolutely **sure** you don't know the third eye jutsu?"_ I asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

"_I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't even have a clue what that **is**, let alone how to do it, so just **lay off already**! Go back to practicing with your sand, try again to see if the hand-seals are working yet, **anything**, just **quit asking me**!"_

"_I was just asking…"_

Despite my disappointment that once again Shukaku had not been able to supply me with what had become the top technique on my to-learn list, I decided to follow his advice and see if the hand-seals were working yet. Apparently, one's hands had to reach a certain size before you could form them properly, and mine just weren't there yet.

In a well-practiced motion, a standard test to see if it was working yet, I created a simple sand clone on the other side of the room and went through the basic hand-seals for a Kawarimi. As usual, it didn't work – but then again, what was I expecting?

I swear, the day I finally made this Kawarimi test work, I would celebrate by finally killing the bastard doctor who _still_ came into my room twice a day to give me evil anti-sleep shots. I already knew the technique the original Gaara had used to keep from going to sleep, it was in one of the scrolls – the basic idea was to create a mental wall in one's psyche and place it between your consciousness and the place in your mind where it retreated to when you went to sleep.

Did I mention how much it sucks not to be able to sleep? It's been three years now – _three **fuckin'** years_ – since I've slept. The dark rings _are_ cool, I'll admit that much, but it's certainly not doing wonders for my mental state. Then again, my personality _still_ hasn't changed much – what does that say about my original state of mind, I wonder?

I sighed out loud, closing my eyes and leaning back in my bed – the first thing I'd done after learning to speak properly was demand a proper bed instead of a crib. In the end, when my request had been refused, the demand had been upped to threats of bodily harm, backed by the demise of poor nurse Gina who was responsible for changing my blankets. From that day forth no one dared to deny me something I wanted – though for some reason, that didn't apply for technique scrolls.

I'd actually found myself killing quite often over the past few years. I didn't really care either – I mean, on TV, people always preach about how killing rips you in half and makes you feel all guilty and so on, but I'd never really bothered myself with things like that. My mind had a way of comprehending things like this in terms of actions and consequences rather than right and wrong. If a person died and their family spent several years mourning, then so be it. So what if it was my fault that they were dead and some kid would grow up without a father? It wasn't like it affected me.

No, I'm not heartless. I just don't care.

"_Like there's a difference, brat."_

"_Actually, there is."_

"_Like what?"_

"_If I were heartless, that would mean I was emotionless. Caring is an emotion, and thus, so is a lack of care. Besides, I **do** actually feel **something** from time to time… just not when I kill people."_

"_Were you always like this or is it just my influence?"_

"_Hm, not sure…"_

Shukaku heaved a mental sigh and went back to sleep the same way he always did when I got too frustrating – which was actually quite often. Sometimes I found it ironic that I was actually less alone here, with a demon in my head, than I was in my first life, surrounded by people who cared about me about as much as… well, about as much as I cared about them.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I answered with a wave of killing intent – one of my favorite tools so far. I had made it into a fine art, working up to the point where was able magnify simple annoyance to the point where I could make a Jounin piss his pants just by looking at him, even though I was still just an infant. I was also currently teaching myself to do the exact opposite, radiating waves of peace and calm to nullify the mind of my opponent almost to the point of hypnotism. Although I honestly wasn't having much luck with that one, it was really all I could practice on until I managed the hand-seals.

I found myself surprised to feel the person counter the killing intent I was sending at them with their own aura. You can always tell when they resist it, it's sort of like… how to explain it… well, it's like putting a drop of oil in a glass of water, and instead of mixing with the water or just falling to pieces, it stays together floating on the surface in its own little bubble. Needless to say, it was weird – and there was only one person I knew who could still resist my killing intent even at this level.

The door was opened, and I upped the killing intent, no longer fueled simply by annoyance, but something akin to true hatred. The difference was noticeable, and I watched with some satisfaction as he began putting actual chakra into his resistance rather than just the emotions that would have been enough if it were anyone else.

"Gaara, stop that," my father ordered sharply. I could already see him perspiring from the effort it took to resist my killing intent.

I smirked and let up on the killing intent until it simply hung in the air like the fine sand particles that floated lazily around my room. Yes, I really did love this technique – now I just had to get the aura-hypnotism (as it I'd dubbed it) right, though I suppose _that_ wasn't happening any time soon.

I watched as my father strode forward into the room until he stood imposingly at the end of the bed. Not that he was really imposing, it just seemed to me like he was looming over me when he stood like that, what with me still being only a third of his size and all that.

"Gaara, there's something important I need to speak with you about."

'

_Once again, I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. The holiday my family took to Sydney ended up being prolonged when the reservation for the people renting our hotel room after us was canceled, so we stayed for the majority of the holidays rather than just the intended few days. On top of that, I was having trouble figuring out what was going to happen next. I knew I had to write something starting at least two years before Yashamaru tried to kill Gaara, but I couldn't figure out what until just recently._

_By the way, I'm very sorry for all the melodrama and 'Mary-sue'-ness surrounding Maya, but it's important for the sake of this story that her character is similar to Gaara's, and for that, she needs to have some sort of angsty past. If you have any complaints about her, please don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll see what I can do to improve her._

_Also, I've had some complaints about the pairing I informed you of in the last Author's Note. Turtle Kid mentioned in a fanfiction called 'Sand in your Shorts', it's a GaaNeji fic, and I decided I liked that pairing better than Gaara and Kakashi, so if no one has any complaints, I think I'll change it to that. However, if you do have any complaints or alternate suggestions, or you simply think that this fic shouldn't be romance at all, please don't hesitate to tell me._


End file.
